


Hasta pronto

by FortuneSurfer



Category: Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortuneSurfer/pseuds/FortuneSurfer
Summary: It’s a weird feeling – to know somebody so well without really knowing about him anything at all.
Relationships: "Blondie" | The Man with No Name/Tuco Ramirez, Angel Eyes/"Blondie" | The Man with No Name
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Hasta pronto

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goodoldhumpy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodoldhumpy/gifts).



At the end of a long and hard fought duel, full of steady intimidating gazes and condescending grins, a man finally loses – and loses his patience and his stake at the card table. This money could have fed a family for several weeks. It's the usual picture around these parts. Here, most establishments, just as this saloon, make money off cowboys eager to get the most exciting kind of entertainment for their pay at the end of another hard trail drive.

So, the other guy announces full house, gambling the man out of fourty dollars, and the man swears in English mixed with Spanish, but there is no heart in it. He is just too content with how the evening has been going so far, and he still has over thousand dollars he made instead of having been hanged. The man bares his teeth and commands his rival to front him another hundred because he’s feeling lucky. His rival doesn’t know how lucky _he_ is to be playing with the infamous Tuco Benedicto Pacífico Juan María Ramírez (also known as The Rat) while the other isn’t spiting insults or throwing fists.

No, when life is good it’s good. And so, tonight Tuco guzzles his hot dinner, drinks his whiskey like water, and gropes two tall women who keep him company.

“Why is my bottle empty, ah? Go get me another, new one, _cariña_ , will you?”

“It’s Lucy, actually.” 

Tuco laughs.

“For my money, I’ll call you whatever I like, and you better get used to it because I’ve paid for the whole night. Now go!”

...Blondie isn’t one for this kind of entertainment, and because of that he hasn’t been part of this evening for long, grooming his horse instead until a few minutes ago. Now, he is also in the saloon, watching his partner’s back – literally because of where Tuco is sitting – from the bar counter.

The crowd around them is a hard bunch of men, which is why Blondie isn’t as relaxed as he could be, but everybody seems to be minding their own business, tired at the end of another busy day, which is why Blondie isn’t as tense as he could be either. Besides, they’ve gotten pretty far from their usual territory this time, he and Tuco, to avoid being recognized. The Wild West is large – some say even endless – but as the number of towns they’ve been to (and escaped from) grows, it gets harder to find a place to rest.

A very specific, familiar smell of tobacco gets Blondie’s attention to serve as a reminder that somehow, no matter where they are, troubles always find them.

“Are you in the mood for a drink?” offers an even more familiar low voice, and the next moment Blondie turns his head to see the face that comes with it. It’s a very unique face that has managed to stay off the ubiquitous wanted posters.

And there is also nobody else who wears the same black flat-topped hat together with a perfectly clean white scarf.

In front of him is one of the most dangerous people Blondie has ever met, but he still somehow can’t resist a tiny smile. Perhaps, any place is small if you’re big enough of a figure.

“Only if it will be a gin.”

Sentenza shows the bartender two fingers (“Two gins.”) and sits himself down next to Blondie.

Blondie shoots a glance in the direction where Tuco is still playing, but the other remains oblivious of their old acquaintance. He studies Sentenza – and is attentively studied by Sentenza in return.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Blondie means it.

Whenever they aren’t pursuing the same thing, there is a… no, not trust, of course, not, but perhaps a comfortable familiarity between them that comes from the place of respect and similarity. Today seems to bring one of those amiable meetings.

“This town should brace itself, with all three of us being here at the same time,” says Sentenza in a very amused tone.

“We’re just passing through.”

“I’ll be leaving soon as well.”

Blondie narrows his eyes in suspicion. The question that springs to his mind is: leaving behind what or who? But he doesn’t voice it. The bartender brings them their drinks, and they raise their glasses.

“It’s good to see familiar faces till then,” says Sentenza as a kind of toast, and adds, leaning to Blondie a little: “And it’s good _for you_ I’m the only one to recognize yours.”

Blondie catches the hint: _if Tuco won’t get in trouble soon_. That’s a possibility.

“Yeah.”

They both look at the implied man across the room over their glasses. Two more men have joined the game at the brightly lit table, and Tuco is not too pleased with the fact that they try to get the attention of his lady friends.

“I must admit, he has guts,” muses Sentenza. “Wanted in fifteen counties and counting and the man still allows himself to appear in public.”

“Well, you risk your life you want to live it a little, too.”

“Speaking of which: a few years ago, we had a job together, me and Tuco.”

That piques Blondie’s curiosity.

“A job?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Not in detail,” replies Blondie carefully.

“Then, it’s better not to dwell on the past. But because of his temper I wondered already then what luck had kept him alive all his life. Today, seeing him still here, I’m thinking God keeps saving him because he’s useful to him as a negative example.”

Blondie ironically smirks to himself.

“And I thought I was just good with my gun.”

“But there is something that keeps you beside your partner despite all your differences. That’s what I meant by Tuco’s luck.”

“They say that opposites attract. And you’re telling me this now because you have some kind of an offer, don‘t you?”

“No, nothing immediate. I’m simply enjoying your company.”

There is a surprising honesty about his answer that he and Sentenza share too often. The moment doesn't last too long, though. Sentenza stands up and leaves his pay at the bar counter.

“But if you would like to discuss any business with me tonight, you can find me in the hotel across the street. _Hasta pronto_.”

Sentenza tips his hat and smiles with his eyes. Blondie takes a cigar out of his breast pocket.

“I reckon so.”

He pensively watches Sentenza go. It’s a weird feeling – to know somebody so well without really knowing about him anything at all.

Somebody flips a table, and then there is a loud bang, and a yelp, and two female screams, and a growl: 

“I told you: you touch her one more time, I’ll cut off your prick and feed it to your horse, didn’t I? And you, what are you looking at with your stupid pig eyes? You want the same as your friend here, huh?”

Without even having to turn around, Blondie sighs in displeasure and crosses out the name of the town on the map in his mind’s eye. He starts to plan how he'll get Tuco out of prison tonight.

Or maybe even tomorrow morning. He already fed his horse, and he told Tuco he wants to spend at least one night in a bed.

Blondie idly wonders whether the bed sheets in the hotel across the street are cleaner.


End file.
